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bonnefoisTitle: kiln
Day/Theme: August 30th /How strange that we, perambulating dust, should be the vessels of
eternal fire.
Series: hanakimi
Character/Pairing: akiha/umeda
Rating: at least in the PG-13 region
[artist au]
The artist's hands have long ago memorized the way, over the clay and waiting with each turn. Forming – not marble but clay. It falls and each time he must reset, reform and start the wheel again.
The burning the forming, the creating. For once he has left the easel and gone to a different form, only momentarily for soon his oils will again cry to again paint perfection, the only thing that can arise his passion. (long ago he abandoned landscapes and other models, just this one, this one important person, none of the rest were worthy)
For now is it a different detour, scorched and with colors burnished deep reddish brown. Earthen and raw, he takes each piece, gently, carefully as if holding an infant and lets each one bloom into form – each shape to convey an aspect of beauty, in each reflection he can see the reflection of a face, so very dear.
Of perfection to only his eyes, of passion.
Day/Theme: August 30th /How strange that we, perambulating dust, should be the vessels of
eternal fire.
Series: hanakimi
Character/Pairing: akiha/umeda
Rating: at least in the PG-13 region
[artist au]
The artist's hands have long ago memorized the way, over the clay and waiting with each turn. Forming – not marble but clay. It falls and each time he must reset, reform and start the wheel again.
The burning the forming, the creating. For once he has left the easel and gone to a different form, only momentarily for soon his oils will again cry to again paint perfection, the only thing that can arise his passion. (long ago he abandoned landscapes and other models, just this one, this one important person, none of the rest were worthy)
For now is it a different detour, scorched and with colors burnished deep reddish brown. Earthen and raw, he takes each piece, gently, carefully as if holding an infant and lets each one bloom into form – each shape to convey an aspect of beauty, in each reflection he can see the reflection of a face, so very dear.
Of perfection to only his eyes, of passion.
